


Fix You

by ShelbyLehnsherr



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Alternate Universe, Best Friends, Bookstore Associate Charles, Domestic Violence, Grumpy angry Logan, Lawyer Erik, M/M, Marvel - Freeform, One-Sided Relationship, X-Men: First Class
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-11
Updated: 2012-03-24
Packaged: 2017-10-29 09:09:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShelbyLehnsherr/pseuds/ShelbyLehnsherr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since college, Erik has been in love with Charles. Charles, unfortunately, is in a relationship with Logan. Logan abuses Charles, but Charles does not tell Erik. Everything gradually spirals out of control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Fix You - Part One  
X-Men AU**

\---

Tonight was not like Erik's usual trip to the bar.

Tonight, it was for means of celebration, rather than just a way to pass the time. In just over a year working at the Shaw Law Firm in upstate New York, Erik had proven himself to be a valuable asset to the company -- going above and beyond his other colleagues, who had been employed by Shaw for well over three years. After their most recent successful trial, Shaw came to the decision that Erik's current position in the business was just unacceptable. Considering all of Erik's accomplishments over the past year, Shaw didn't know why he hadn't promoted him sooner, because it was clear his work ethic far exceeded that of anyone else in his department.

The first person he thought to deliver the news to was Charles, his best friend since college. Over the phone, no matter how hushed Charles tone was, Erik could tell he was ecstatic for him. However, a celebration was no celebration at all if one had to do it alone. He insisted that Charles join him -- even if just for an hour or so. He used to see Charles every single day, but now, that had been reduced to every other -- if that. So, when Charles agreed to come, he couldn't have been more thrilled at the prospect of spending the rest of the evening with him.

Erik slid onto one of the few vacant seats at the bar and smiled broadly at the bartender, who knew him by name since he was here at least three times a week.

"What'll it be tonight, Erik?" Azazel asked as he set down one of the mugs he'd been cleaning. Most of the time, he and Azazel managed to carry on a rather enlightening conversation. There were other times when a couple of his friends from the firm would show up and converse with him until the extremely late hours of the evening. Tonight was different. Charles was coming -- and Erik couldn't be antsier; getting hit by a train wouldn't have knocked the smile from his face.

"A beer for me and a mojito for my friend." Erik replied, and then reached into his back pocket to fish out his wallet. He knew it was Charles preferred, if not favorite, drink.

Azazel's brows shot up in surprise. Least to say, he hadn't quite expected Erik to not show up alone. He usually always did. "You got it." Turning his back, the slightly older man grabbed a beer from behind the bar, set it down atop a coaster in front of Erik, and then proceeded to mix Erik's 'friends' drink.

Erik glanced at his watch. It was nearly eight and he noted that he called Charles a little over a half hour ago. He'd wondered what was keeping him and contemplated calling him again, but decided against it.

It was kind of like Charles to arrive fashionably late.

\---

He was halfway to the door when Logan stopped him.

"Where ya goin'?"

Behind him in the living room, Charles could hear the low murmur of the television -- some sort of hockey game, probably, it was that time of year -- and smell the lingering fumes of one of those terrible cigars -- he'd told him, time and time again, not to smoke in the apartment, especially when there was a perfectly good fire escape just outside the window that was meant for such a purpose. He glanced over his shoulder and continued to shrug into his jacket, checking the inside pocket to make sure he had his wallet and keys before he left. Erik was no doubt waiting, already sitting at the bar alone with a drink in front of him, and he still had to catch the train that would take him toward the place they'd agreed to meet.

"Raven needs some help with a few things." The lie was easy, a well-told tale that leapt to mind too often these days. It wasn't that he wanted to keep Erik a secret, especially with a friendship that spanned far more years than the amount of time he'd been involved with Logan, but he did want to avoid another argument. Lying was easier, especially when the truth encompassed the tiny fact that he would be meeting the other man at a bar on the other side of the city for drinks as a celebration of his new job promotion. He'd accepted the invitation when Erik had called him without a moment's hesitation, overjoyed at the potential success and opportunity it meant for his friend, and there was no way that he would choose not to go now.

In the other room, Logan snorted and grumbled something under his breath. "How long are ya gonna be gone?"

His hand was on the door now; he could have walked out without another word, leaving Logan to his beer and hockey game. There was no need for him to place a time on his arrival back home, really, but he could feel Logan's eyes on his back, waiting for an answer.

"Not terribly long." Charles said, another lie. He would have stayed out all night if Erik had wanted him to -- they were celebrating, after all, and no matter how many years had passed, their celebrations hadn't become much more tame since their college days. "I'll be home before it gets too late."

He shut the door before Logan could say anything else and set off down the staircase, his steps quick.

\---

The train, of course, had been overly crowded and what should have been a short trip took longer than expected. By the time he pushed himself (as politely as possible, of course) through the crowds of people milling about the underground station and up the stairs, a glance at his watch informed him that almost an hour had passed in between the time Erik had called him and now. He'd considered sending his friend a text while on the train, promising that he was still coming, but he'd been wedged in between two sour-faced men in business suits for the duration of the trip and retrieving his phone from the pocket of his trench coat was impossible. Thankfully, the walk from the station to the bar was short, and he was tugging open the door and stepping inside just a few minutes later.

He could see Erik sitting alone at the bar, talking amiably to the man behind the counter. There was a bottle of beer in his hand, but another drink (one that came in a glass, and he knew from experience that Erik very rarely drank anything out of a glass unless it was a martini) in front of the seat to his right that was obviously meant for him, and suddenly, Charles felt terrible for keeping him waiting so long.

"I'm sorry I'm so late." he said as soon as he was close enough to be heard over the music thrumming from the radio and the conversations of the other patrons. "The underground was an absolute disaster and I didn't think to take a taxi until it was far too late."

Charles smiled and shrugged out of his coat, draping it across the back of his chair as he took a seat next to Erik.

"Congratulations again, by the way. I knew you'd be promoted sooner than later."

Erik flashed his usual trademark shark-like grin over in Charles direction upon seeing that he'd finally arrived. He would have made a joke or two on how he "thought Charles wasn't going to show up", but decided against it. He didn't doubt that the train was busy -- it was Friday evening after all.

"Don't worry about it." Erik smiled as he raised the beer to his lips once again. "And thanks." He added, speaking around the rim of the bottle before he took another swig. His behavior around Charles was questionable; his heart was beating fast and he almost felt like he was absent of anything intelligent to say. It was never like that at the beginning of their friendship -- Charles had been someone he enjoyed spending time with. He never thought that he would have been able to befriend someone who liked to party quite as much as he did, but Charles thoroughly surprised him. Over time, Erik felt those initial, harmless feelings develop into something far more dangerous.

Of course, it would not have been dangerous had Charles not been currently involved with someone else. He disliked Logan for a variety of reasons -- and not just because he was dating his best friend. Erik knew for a fact that they fought quite often, because there were times where he would be having dinner or something of the latter with Charles, and he would be in a less than desirable mood. As desperately as he wanted to, he didn't question it, knowing he would be treading on delicate territory.

Erik flashed him a broad grin and Charles couldn't help but smile back, his heart beating just the tiniest bit faster. Getting to see the other man was a very welcome occurrence -- he saw him far less than he ever would have liked to, especially in recent months, and he missed him. Through their college years and even afterward, Charles had quickly grown accustomed to having Erik as a very constant presence in his life, and their lack of daily interaction on a regular basis left an empty feeling in his chest. There were dinners and coffees and plenty of dropping by's, but as much as he didn't want to admit it at times, his relationship with Logan really had come between them.

The fact that Erik wasn't exactly a fan of the other man certainly wasn't a secret, and Charles couldn't necessarily blame him for it -- though he tried to keep his relationship problems to himself, there were certain things that he needed to get off his chest at times, and Erik had always been rather gifted when it came to knowing that something was wrong.

But tonight wasn't the time to bring up any of his personal issues; he was here for Erik to help him celebrate. Though he'd kept his voice down on the phone and tried to remain at least somewhat calm, he was impossibly happy for his friend and more proud than he'd even been at graduation, when he'd clapped the loudest as soon as Erik's name was called and even, much to his own personal horror later, teared up at the prospect that that had been it. He knew that Erik deserved the promotion, that he'd really deserved it from the very beginning, even.

"You're welcome." he finally said, taking a sip of the drink that Erik had no doubt ordered for him.

"So what about you," Erik arched a curious brow as he set his beer down atop the counter. In order to keep Charles from having to repeat himself, he leaned in a bit closer (it was nearly impossible to have a normal conversation with the mixture of banter and music around them). "How's your book coming along?"

Erik didn't want this night to be entirely about him. To him, Charles was much more interesting to talk about (so long as Logan didn't somehow enter or interfere in the discussion). Erik wasn't much of a reader, but he found himself visiting the bookstore that Charles worked at every other day -- purchasing a book that he would more than likely never read. Oftentimes, Charles would rant and rave about a novel he'd read recently, and then highly recommend that Erik check it out. That was his excuse for going. It had crossed his mind that maybe he was trying to impress Charles to a degree, but then it also occurred to him that his actions were quite hopeless. He knew it was impossible, but somehow, he still found himself trying.  

He should have known the book would come up in conversation somehow; just as he could have spent the entire evening asking about Erik's latest tribulations at the firm, Erik always seemed to prefer to turn the conversation around on him. Not that he necessarily minded having someone ask about the progress of his novel -- he hadn't yet allowed anyone other than Erik to actually read the manuscript, and that had only been by chance, on a day when the other man had been visiting the apartment and happened to pick it up from beside his typewriter. And though he told him not to and attempted, very valiantly, to snatch the pages out of Erik's hands, he hadn't been able to say no when Erik had asked if he could read it, just this once.

It was nice, after all, to have someone other than himself to share the story with. Charles shrugged and took another sip of his drink. He hadn't had much time to write lately, truth be told, but there was still hope for finishing by the end of the year. "It's coming." he said with a somewhat sheepish smile. "Slowly, you know, but I'm nearing the end."

Erik motioned for another beer -- deciding that he would stick with just two this evening. He wasn't too fond of waking up with a hangover (plus, he still had to drive home). "Nearing the end, huh?" His brows shot up in surprise. He understood that writing a book was a lengthy process, but recently, Erik suspected a particular someone was hindering his ability to write. The novel was something that was extremely important to Charles. If it wasn't, there was no way in hell Charles would have put so much time into it. "Weren't you nearing the end a month ago?"

Charles dropped his gaze and gave another shrug, tracing the ring of moisture his now empty glass had left behind on the bar top. He had been nearing the end of the novel weeks ago, after a particularly productive weekend when Logan had been away on business, but after that, his work had come to a complete stop. He was lucky to finish a few pages every week, and it frustrated him beyond belief; the better part of two years had been devoted to the novel, and he wasn't fond of the fact that his progress had been hindered so heavily. Erik had surely caught on by now, even without him mentioning it.

"...Things, you know, got in the way." he said quietly, falling silent for a moment before he looked back up to Erik, attempting a small smile. "But don't worry, it'll be worth it. I have a feeling you're going to love the ending."

Erik scrutinized Charles uneasy expression, then clenched his jaw when he managed a small smile. He would be an idiot to think that Logan didn't have something to do with it. "I'm sure that I will."

\---

"...and I'm almost positive that I'm going to receive a call one day saying that I need to pick Raven up from the police station downtown, because according to her, Alex's been sleeping on her couch for the past two weeks and subsequently eating all of the food in her kitchen while she's at work. It's only a matter of time before the inevitable Armageddon."

One hour had quickly turned into three, and even though they'd long since abandoned their drinks on the bar top, they'd remained in their seats, talking about dozens of different things. Charles had almost forgotten how much time had passed since he and Erik had really had a lengthy conversation face-to-face and how much could actually happen in that period; though he tried to text or email Erik every other day at the least, there was still plenty that they didn't have a chance to share. It was nice, catching up like this, and he barely realized that they'd been sitting there so long at all.

"Which is unfortunate, really --"

In the pocket of his coat, his cell phone blared loudly, demanding his attention. It had remained silent for most of the evening, but in the past hour or so, he'd ignored the handful of chimes that signaled a new text message. Now, as he made an apologetic face at Erik and pulled it from his pocket, he saw that the screen was filled with missed messages from Logan.

_*Where r u?*_

The latest one, sent just a moment earlier, was short, but Charles knew that the other man was undoubtedly angry -- a glance at the clock at the top of the screen told him that the time was much later than when he'd originally planned to be home. He was in the middle of typing a reply when his phone beeped again, another message that was far less neutral than the last popping up on his screen.

_*It's been 3 fuckin hours, where the hell r u?*_

He could sense the argument brewing, and he knew it was only a matter of time before Logan called him. He hoped, at least, that his story about being with Raven would remain believable, and he racked his brain for an excuse to explain the huge passage of time -- *it's Friday night, we thought we'd get dinner and go see a movie, too* -- once he returned to the apartment. With a sigh, Charles tucked the phone into the pocket of his jeans and looked at Erik, remorse plastered all over his face.

"I'm afraid I've got to go."

Just as much as he hoped Logan wouldn't ask for too much of an explanation, he didn't want Erik to ask for one either, though he could see the doubt in the other's expression. Before Erik could say anything, he stood from the bar stool and slipped into his coat, looking anywhere but at his friend.

"I'm sorry, Erik." Charles said once he was in his coat and ready to leave. He put a handful of bills on the bar top for their last round of drinks and ran a hand through his hair. "I really do hate to run out on you, but I've got to get home."

He knew that Erik wanted to say something, but Charles, for once, didn't want to give him the chance. Erik didn't need any other reason to dislike Logan more than he already did, and Charles didn't want to be the one to provide him with one.

"I'll call you later, I promise."

With that, he gave a half-wave to Azazel and left the bar.

**-End of Part One-**


	2. Chapter 2

**Fix You - Part Two  
X-Men AU**

\---

Never before had Erik seen Charles leave in such a haste.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he watched Charles sift his way through a crowd of people, in a hurry to get to the exit. Charles had attempted to mask a look of sheer horror after reading a text message, Erik undoubtedly believed it was from Logan. Had it been Raven, Charles simply would not have been so reluctant to leave.

Erik could not help the anger that bubbled to the surface. It was obvious that Charles was being mistreated by Logan, but Charles would never admit that to him. When it came to his relationship (if you could really even call it that) with Logan, his best friend was extremely reserved. Erik tried to avoid talking about Logan at all costs, but when he did bring him up, Charles was insistent on changing the subject.

The entire drive back to his apartment was silent. Erik had placed his own cell phone in one of the cup holders, just in case he was unable to hear it in his pocket. Never before had he been so reliant on getting a phone call. There was an uneasy feeling resting in the back of Erik’s mind -- and he wanted so desperately to call Charles himself.

Charles promised -- _promised_ him he would call.

It was not like Charles to break his promises.

\---

Things had gone downhill very, very quickly.

Logan had been waiting for him when he unlocked the door and stepped inside the apartment. An angry glare and the acrid stench of a cigar greeted him as he slipped out of his coat, and it was a very long moment before Logan broke the silence and finally spoke.

“Where were ya?”

“Raven and I decided to have dinner together.” Charles said evenly, hanging his coat in the hall closet. “And then we saw a movie afterward. It was high time we caught up, after all.”

Logan grunted and blew out a cloud of smoke. “Dinner and a movie, huh?” he said dubiously, taking a few steps toward Charles. “Then why do ya smell like a bar?”

He should have known that cigarette smoke and alcohol would cling to his clothing but he’d hoped, rather foolishly, that Logan would have been asleep by the time he returned home to change.

“I had a few drinks at dinner and we took a cab home. You know how questionable some of those smell.”

Logan closed more of the distance between them, cigar hanging from one corner of his mouth. With him standing so near, Charles could smell the alcohol lingering on the other man’s breath, and his stomach twisted into a knot of discomfort. He dreaded the argument they were surely going to have, especially if Logan was fueled by a number of beers.

“You weren’t with that friend of yours by any chance, were ya?”

Charles looked up at him briefly and shook his head. “Erik? No.” he lied. “He’s out of town on business at the moment.”

Logan shook his head and cracked a smile that lacked any humor. “Ya know, you’re a real shit liar.” he said. “Next time, ya might wanna tell the person you’re supposed to be with that they’re a part of yer whole little story.”

His eyes widened in shock -- he’d completely forgotten to tell Raven that he was supposedly going to be with her for the evening, so last minute were his plans with Erik, and it was a mistake that he never should have made. He’d been so intent on getting home before he could anger Logan further that he hadn’t bothered to check any of his missed calls, and he was sure that she’d called him if she’d been in touch with Logan.

Before he had a chance to say anything, Logan laughed and shook his head again, biting down on the end of his cigar. “Raven called looking for ya a while ago.” he explained. “Said she couldn’t reach ya on yer cell. So tell me, Charles, who were ya really with?”

There was a tiny voice in the back of his mind that was telling him it would be better for him just to be honest and admit that he was with Erik, but an even larger part of him was simply angry. He didn’t want to fight, but he didn’t want to feel the need to lie about where he was whenever he chose to go out, especially if he was only seeing his best friend.

“Why does it matter who I was with, Logan?”

Before Charles could even get another syllable out, Logan’s large fist connected with the side of the brunettes face, effectively knocking him to the floor. It was not rare that Logan got violent with Charles. It was rare, however, that it go this far. Most of the time, Logan would either shove or slap him if Charles said so much as one thing that he didn’t appreciate (which was not hard to do).

The stocky man took another brief drag of his cigar before kneeling down and balling a fist in the front of Charles now bloody shirt. “I asked ya a question. Now are ya gonna tell me or am I gonna have’ta get it outta ya some other way?”

Charles wasn’t prepared for the hit Logan threw at him; it was hard enough to cause him to stumble backward and fall to the floor before he even realized what was really happening. He could feel blood, hot and sticky, already pouring from his nose, soaking the front of his shirt when he attempted to wipe some of it away. For the first time in a long time, he was truly and honestly scared as Logan knelt down in front of him and grabbed the front of his sweater. Pushes and slaps were frequent occurrences, but a punch this hard was not.

He tried to push himself backward and twist out of Logan’s grip, but he’d landed against the wall and there was no way for him to pull himself to his feet. The other man was in his face now, leaning in so close Charles couldn’t breathe over the smell of smoke for a brief moment. Fear twisted his stomach in knots and he held his hands in front of his face out of blind instinct, hoping that Logan wouldn’t try to strike him again.

“I was with Erik.” he blurted out, hating himself for it. “He got promoted at the firm, I wanted to celebrate with him --”

“You lyin’ little shit.” Logan growled before Charles could finish his statement. He wasn’t stupid. He knew Charles must have been going to meet Erik -- unlike when he actually did go out with Raven, there was a bit of urgency and excitement in his stride. With a rough pull, Logan hauled Charles back up onto his feet, then shoved him against the wall. “I thought I told ya yer not allowed to see ‘em. But then again, when the fuck do ya ever listen to a damn thing I say?” Not listening is one of many reasons why Charles got hit.

Knowing his shoulder blades and the side of his face would be effectively bruised within a few hours, Logan released his iron-grip on the front of Charles shirt before retreating back to the living room.

He was being hauled to his feet a moment later and shoved against the wall behind him, his head hitting the wall with a dull thump. His nose was still bleeding and now he could taste blood in his mouth, too, sharp and metallic.

He couldn’t do this anymore.

Before he had a chance to say anything, Logan was turning his back to him and stomping back into the living room. He heard the television turn on again, the hum of it filling the all-too-sudden quiet of the apartment, and Charles stayed where he was for a long moment, wiping at his face with his sleeve and trying to stop himself from shaking.

He didn’t want to do this anymore.

Charles had been aware for a very long time that his relationship with Logan was unhealthy. He didn’t need Erik or Raven to tell him so -- especially when, honestly, they didn’t know the half of it. If he was being completely truthful with himself, the only reason he remained with Logan for as long as he had was because of the fact that he was frightened of what might happen if he ended their relationship; he’d seen the other man grow violent for far more trivial things. But now, he knew that this had to stop.

Walking into the doorway of the living room, Charles stopped, sucking in a shaky breath. Logan was sitting in an armchair, his gaze focused on the television, and he didn’t glance over even when Charles cleared his throat.

“I want you to leave.” he said, ashamed of how shaky his voice sounded. “I can’t do this anymore, Logan, and I think it’s best for you to just go.”

Logan flexed his jaw and brought a half-empty beer can to his lips. He completely ignored Charles when he spoke, eyes remaining focused on the television. He wasn’t concerned at this point -- because he knew full well that Charles would crawl right back to him and apologize, as he always did.

Logan wasn’t looking at him.

“Logan,” Charles said again, louder this time. “I said I want you to leave.”

He wasn’t apologizing this time. He wasn’t coming back. For once, he didn’t care about the consequences, he just wanted out.

\---

As three AM neared, Erik was teetering on the edge of absolute insanity.

Everywhere in the apartment he went, his cell phone was no more than a few feet away. For the past two hours, the phone call Erik had been waiting for never came. He checked his inbox at least every five minutes, paranoid even though there was a slim chance he’d missed it. There was no way he would be able to concentrate on any of his work, so he didn’t know why he’d bothered trying to do it at all.

 _I’ll call you later, I promise._

 _Later._ How much _later?_

Later, _when?_

Erik was sure he’d never felt this anxious in his entire life. His fingers itched to dial Charles number and make the call himself, but he did not know if Logan somehow managed to take possession of Charles phone. Considering how controlling he appeared to be, Erik wouldn’t doubt it for a second. Perhaps it would be on silent because Charles was too afraid of Logan hearing that he was getting a call, knowing that he would do nothing but question who he was talking to? Erik didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out that Logan did not like when Charles was in company with him.

A heavy sigh slipped from Erik’s lips as he trudged into his bedroom, cell phone firmly in hand. As much as he didn’t want to go to bed, he knew sleep would consume him within the few minutes or so. However, despite all his previous reservations, Erik unlocked his phone and hesitantly dialed Charles number.

 _Riiiing...Riiiiiing...Riiiiiing...Riiiiiing...Riiiing…Hello, you’ve reached Charles Xavier. I am terribly sorry I missed your call, but please leave your name and number and I will get back to you as soon as possible._

Erik swallowed thickly around the nervous lump in his throat as he ended the call.

Charles wasn’t answering.

 _Why wasn’t he answering?_

Worry quickly morphed into utter dread. Three AM and he had still heard nothing from his best friend -- it was only natural he be concerned. Charles promised he would call and he hadn’t.

Erik sank down onto his bed and dragged a hand through his slightly damp hair (it was a wonder how he even took a shower when he thought the water running would overpower the sound of Charles ringtone).

All he could do was hope that Charles would return his call soon.

\---

The rest of the night was, really, somewhat of a blur.

He wasn’t sure what drove him to grab his coat from the hallway closet and shove it on roughly despite the fact that his bruised arms and shoulders practically screamed in protest; Logan was still seated in the living room, his face as placid as it had been when he’d first told him to leave the apartment. He’d said it before, of course -- he’d said it many times, thrown it out in hurt and desperation after Logan got angry with him for something, but this time, he meant it. Their relationship was toxic, and he couldn’t do it anymore; frightened as he was of what Logan might do once he realized that Charles was being completely serious when he told him it was done, he couldn’t bring himself to go through the torment, whether mental or physical, that being with Logan caused.

So he’d gone, still dressed in his ruined clothes with dried blood undoubtedly smeared across his face (by the worried looks a few people on the streets cast his way, he was sure that he must have looked worse than he thought), headed absolutely nowhere. The streets were emptier at this time of night, even on a Friday, with only handfuls of late-night party goers stumbling around the sidewalk, and for that he was thankful. He thought of going to Raven’s, but the thought of her face when she opened the door and saw him standing there was enough to make him nearly nauseous. She’d seen him through everything, been there through nearly every part of his life, but this was once instance where she couldn’t be there; he couldn’t bear to do that to her.

His cell phone rang loudly in the pocket of his coat, and he considered, for a moment, simply allowing it to ring and go unanswered. But he found himself pulling it from his pocket anyway, and it was Erik’s grinning face that filled his screen instead of the picture of Logan that he’d been expecting. The phone buzzed in his hands a few more times, but he didn’t answer, and as the ringing stopped and the screen darkened once again, something inside him simply _broke_ , and the tears he’d been fighting ever since he’d slammed the door of the apartment shut finally escaped.

It was nearly three in the morning and Erik was still awake. It was nearly three in the morning, Erik was still awake, and Erik was calling him. He’d been unable to place the call he’d promised the other man before leaving the bar, not trusting himself to do so much as choke out an intelligible sentence, and he’d hoped that Erik would leave it alone until the next day, but that obviously hadn’t been the case -- which meant that his friend was worried, worried enough to call him in the middle of the night, and the realization was enough to break his heart.

Charles forced himself to sit on a bench at the nearest bus stop, ignoring the strange looks a pair of leather-clad teenagers threw his way as he buried his face in his hands. All this time he’d been fighting the idea of feeling anything more than friendship for Erik, but now, he knew he couldn’t grapple with the realization anymore. In reality, it was no secret that he cared for Erik more deeply than he’d ever cared for Logan, he’d just been too frightened to admit it. Logan hadn’t called because he probably didn’t care where Charles was at this point, but Erik...Erik did. He’d been there all along, and Charles had made a mistake by not seeing it so much sooner.

He sucked in a shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair, wiping quickly at his stinging eyes. His phone hadn’t rung again, but that didn’t mean that Erik wasn’t still awake.

Standing from the bench, Charles took another deep breath and turned to walk in the opposite direction down the street, headed toward the place where he should have gone from the very beginning.

 **-End of Part Two-**


	3. Chapter 3

**Fix You - Part Three  
X-Men AU**

\---

It was almost four in the morning by the time Charles reached the part of the city where Erik lived -- the walk was much longer than he'd remembered it being, but then again, he hardly ever made it alone and conversation always made it seem shorter. Here, the streets were nearly completely empty; Erik had always preferred a more quiet neighborhood while Charles was content living right in the middle of the city. He wondered, briefly, if maybe he was making a bit of a mistake by coming here -- his phone hadn't rung again following the single call from his friend, and Charles was sure that while he didn't have work the next morning, he'd gone to bed by now. But he'd come all this way, and there wasn't anywhere else for him to go, and looking up at Erik's apartment building, he was flooded again with the overwhelming need to just see the other man.

The time he was able to spend in the elevator on his way to Erik's fifth floor apartment, however short, provided him with a means of calming himself down before he reached the door. There was no hope for his clothes or the bruise that was, after a glance in the reflective ceiling of the elevator, rapidly blooming ugly and purple across one side of his face. His nose had stopped bleeding long ago, but no matter how hard he wiped at his skin, the awful reminder of what had happened was still there, staining his skin a faded red. Knocking on the door and waiting for Erik to answer, if he did, would be nothing short of torture, but he was sure that the other man would be able to handle his appearance much better than Raven.

Once the elevator doors slid open, Charles tucked his shaking hands into the pockets of his coat and walked down the corridor until he finally stood outside of Erik's door. Again, he felt the tiniest urge to turn around and go -- even if it meant wandering the streets for the rest of the night -- but one hand slipped from his pocket and raised to knock three times on the door.

\---

Erik, unfortunately and unwillingly, long since passed out on his bed, holding his phone securely in the palm of his hand. He was convinced that Charles wasn't going to call him back, but he was sure he would make an attempt to call him in the morning. He assumed maybe Charles thought it was too late to call, and decided not to out of sheer decency. Little did he know, Erik was in a frenzy these last few hours.

After a half hour of sleeping, Erik woke to the sound of three knocks on his apartment door. His room was close by, so it was enough to jar him out of sleep. He glanced at the clock and shook his head, not knowing who in the hell would stop by at four in the morning. 

Erik climbed out of bed and groaned under his breath as he rubbed his eyes, making his way to the front door. His fingers clumsily unlatched the lock and pulled open the door…

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw in front of him.

Charles -- shirt bloody, face bruised, eyes red and swollen from crying.

His face fell and all he could do was stand there and stare at his best friend, positively mangled after an encounter with no one other than Logan. The anger that had been there before quickly rose up again; however, he was sure he'd never been as irate as he was right now. 

Logan _hit_ Charles.

Charles was _hurt._

Erik swallowed thickly around the bile rising in his throat and opened the door wider. "Come in, Charles." He said as he flexed his jaw, wanting nothing more than to leave and take care of Logan himself. Though, knowing Charles, he wouldn't allow him to do that.

\---

There was an awful moment between the sound of a lock clumsily unlatching and the door swinging open in which Charles was sure that he forgot how to breathe entirely. He wasn't prepared for Erik's sudden appearance, eyes still heavy with sleep and hair slightly mused, or just how quickly that expression changed into something he didn't immediately recognize -- a dozen different glimpses of emotion, anger and shock and hate all fighting for dominance in his face. The door opened wider and he barely heard Erik invite him inside; he was stumbling blindly into the apartment he knew too well, a lump rapidly rising in his throat and his stomach tying itself in a hundred different knots. 

They stood there for a moment and Charles, for once, didn't know what to do -- out of every possible scenario he'd ever imagined during the course of his friendship with Erik, finding himself standing in the middle of his apartment at four in the morning with an ugly bruise across his face and a nose that may or may not be broken was not one of them. He'd told himself time and time again during the months he was with Logan that Erik, of all people, couldn't know just what their relationship entailed; he knew of the arguments, of course, and how Logan didn't appreciate the fact that he was so deeply attached to Erik, but that was it. He'd never so much as mentioned an argument that even became briefly physical, and yet here he was following the worst one yet. 

He felt like he needed to say something, because he was sure that by now, Erik was planning the number of ways he could take care of Logan without getting caught. "I--," But he made the mistake of looking up at Erik, whose expression had somehow shifted into one of such prominent and obvious concern that anything else he was planning on saying immediately died on the tip of his tongue, and Charles felt his eyes sting with tears again that he didn't even bother trying to wipe away.

"You act as if you need to explain yourself to me." Erik spoke up once he saw the tears roll silently down Charles blood-caked cheeks. He took a tentative step forward, not quite sure if Charles necessarily wanted anyone near him at that moment. But, considering the fact that Charles did come over so late, he must have wanted some form of companionship, which is something that Logan clearly did not provide in any way. 

When Charles said nothing in response, Erik closed the distance between them and pulled him into a gentle embrace, not knowing if Logan did any more physical damage that he simply could not see. 

Charles knew that he didn't need to explain himself -- there would be a time, sometime later, where he would have to provide Erik with at least the briefest of insight into his relationship with Logan, if he was even asked. But explaining himself for showing up at Erik's doorstep at nearly four in the morning was the very last thing he needed to do at the moment, and even though he was well aware of that fact, he was still thankful when Erik actually voiced it.

He nodded slightly and wiped at his eyes, trying to regain his composure long enough to get at least one sentence out. His head was practically spinning, however; there were, honestly, dozens of things he could have said but none of them seemed fitting. He was still trying to swallow down the lump that had seemingly taken permanent residency in his throat when Erik stepped forward cautiously and pulled him into a hug that was so gentle and comforting he felt his heart break all over again, and the only thing he found himself able to do was cling to the back of the other man's shirt and bury his face in the crook of his neck as a sob ripped its way out of his chest.

Erik nudged Charles in closer, now able to smell the blood that was obviously on him. It was right then that he was able to see the bruises that started at Charles collar and traveled down the back of his neck, descending into his shirt. He clenched his jaw as his best friend sobbed in his arms, trying to maintain his own composure. He was angry. Had he not been so concerned with keeping Charles company, he would have left and gone to see Logan.

Naturally, he was never not going to be concerned. 

"Come on," Erik coaxed quietly, the hand that had been rubbing soothing circles on the small of Charles back stilling for the moment. "Let's get you cleaned up." 

Finally, it seemed, the tears stopped and he was able to draw in a breath that didn't make his chest ache. He remained holding onto Erik though, aware, at least minutely, of the mess he was probably making of the other man's shirt; he wanted to pull away, but his best friend was warm and familiar and comforting and he needed that more than anything right now. Erik's hand was rubbing little circles along his back and though his muscles already ached from bruising that he couldn't yet see, Charles let him continue. 

When Erik spoke again, Charles pulled back and wiped carefully at his eyes with the heels of his hands. He was suddenly aware of just how tired he was; had he not looked like such an absolute wreck, he could have easily collapsed onto the couch in the living room and slept for what felt like a thousand years. "All right," he said, his voice hoarse from crying, as he followed Erik down the hallway toward the bathroom.

\---

Upon inspecting the overall extent of the damage, Erik learned he had to be even more careful than he'd first imagined. He hadn't realized that the bruises stretched all down Charles back, so getting him out of his shirt to examine those further was a painful task. Bruises of various colors and sizes had blossomed across his pale skin; there is no sort of medical treatment for a bruise (other than an ice pack every so often), so their only option for those was to just let them heal on their own, which would hopefully only take a few days (or at least, have them not look as bad as they do now). 

In the span of a half an hour, Erik successfully cleaned up the blood on Charles face, thoroughly examined each and every one of the bruises he sustained in the tiff with Logan, and then instructed Charles to shower; he wasn't going to keep him in his dirty clothes -- surely he had some pajamas he could borrow for the night -- yes, the night, because there was no way in hell Erik was going to allow him to go back to his own apartment with the possibility that Logan might be there waiting. The next time Charles would return would be with him in tow. At this point, Erik wasn't willing to take any chances. 

Erik had laid out a plain white t-shirt and some gray cotton pants on the bathroom counter for Charles when he was finished with his shower; since then, he retreated to the kitchen to make some tea. He had no doubt that Charles was still shaken by all of the events that occurred, so this would help relax him somewhat, or at least, he hoped. Erik usually never drank earl grey -- hell, he usually never drank tea, but he always had some in the cupboard just in case Charles was to visit. He knew Charles preferred tea over Erik's choice, coffee. 

Erik sighed softly and ran a hand over his tired eyes as he leaned back against the counter, waiting almost impatiently for the tea to steep. He could still hear the shower water from where he stood, so the tea would be ready by the time Charles got out and joined him in the living room.

After a few minutes, Erik poured a cup and brought it into the other room. He sank down on the couch and set the mug on the coffee table in front of him. He was tired, but thankful that he wasn't expected to go to the office tomorrow. He smiled slightly at the thought of Charles and himself sleeping in, but then wondered if Charles would be able to sleep at all. 

If Charles wanted to get better anytime soon, he would undoubtedly need his rest. 

\---

The half hour spent in the bathroom had been one of the most uncomfortable of his entire life.

Charles, really, could have cleaned himself up -- he'd started to protest, although a little quietly, when Erik had started to pull towels and a first aid kid from beneath the sink with the intentions of taking care of it himself. Erik had the same expression on his face that Charles associated with how he must look in the courtroom, staring down whatever witness happened to be on the stand, and he couldn't find it in his heart to argue, even as Erik began to carefully pull his ruined jumper and shirt over his head. The first grimace and gasp of pain had been completely unintentional, but Erik had stopped and looked at him all the same, concern in his eyes but anger in the tight clenching of his jaw. It had been mostly silent, after that, with Erik asking him if he was all right or if it hurt if he pressed right there and a dozen other questions that felt all wrong coming from him. 

Even with the blood cleaned from his face, there was still evidence that he couldn't hide from his fight with Logan. A nasty bruise had already bloomed dark purple underneath his eye and along one side of his face, and he was sure it would be swollen come morning. He supposed that he should have considered himself lucky; most of the damage could be hidden beneath his clothing and would heal with time, and he was sure that Logan was capable of far worse. It did not, however, prevent Erik from carefully inspecting each and every bruise he may have attained or tilting his head gently from one side to the other to check for any hint of a head injury.

"I've got some clothes you can borrow for the night." Erik had said once he was finished. "You can't sleep in those. I'll leave them on the counter for you, once you've finished with the shower."

"Thank you." he'd replied quietly, glancing up at Erik with the first hint of a smile he'd managed since he'd left the bar so many hours ago. 

Erik had nodded and left, closing the door to the bathroom behind him to give Charles some privacy. He'd showered as quickly as he was able; the hot water was a welcome relief, and it provided him with time to think. He knew that he would be spending the night at Erik's apartment, though he'd never asked to; not only was it terribly late (or terribly early, depending on how he wanted to look at it), but he was sure that Erik wouldn't want him returning to his own apartment now. When he'd left, Logan had still been sitting in the living room despite the fact that Charles had told him numerous times that he wanted him out, and there was no guarantee that he'd actually listened. He didn't want to go back to the apartment alone, especially not so soon, and while Erik hadn't mentioned it, Charles planned on asking him to go along whenever he went back. It would be a comfort to have him there, even if they did end up opening the door to an empty apartment.

After dressing in the clothes Erik had, as promised, left out for him -- the t-shirt was a bit longer than the ones he wore, but it smelled like laundry soap and his best friend, so he couldn't complain -- and stepped out of the bathroom. He could see Erik in the living room, seated on the couch with a mug on the coffee table in front of him and a tired expression on his face. He felt a pang of guilt at keeping him up so late; it was nearly sunrise, and Erik had been working on a case the entire day before, he had to be exhausted. 

Charles sat down beside him and ran a hand through his damp hair, eyebrows rising at the mug on the table. Years of experience and a very careful appreciation had provided him with the knack of recognizing the scent of earl grey, and he couldn't keep the small smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"You made tea?"

"I did." Erik replied, smiling sleepily. He took this moment to take in Charles current state of dress -- his clothes; never before had an outfit look so right on him. The shirt hung a couple inches lower than it would have on Erik and the pants were a bit looser of a fit, which was probably good considering tight clothing might have irritated Charles bruises further. 

Now that Charles had showered, the bruise stood out far more than it had on his face. Erik nearly winced at the sight, knowing that even though Charles didn't show many signs of discomfort, it had to hurt. "Can I get you anything else?" He asked, apparent concern in his tone.

Charles reached forward and picked up the mug from the table top, holding it securely in his hands. He was sure that, under normal circumstances, there would have been a rather ridiculous smile plastered on his face, because Erik didn't like earl grey, or any sort of tea for that matter; aside from the off chance of a visit from Charles, there wasn't a need for him to have an entire box of it in his kitchen cupboard. The thought that Erik cared enough to keep something like that for him -- because, truthfully, Charles never visited as much as he would have liked to, and even then, their drink of choice wasn't something as tame as tea -- put his mind at ease somewhat, allowed him to think that maybe things would turn out all right after all, despite how terrible they'd appeared earlier in the evening. 

"Thank you." he said quietly, looking down at his hands before taking a sip. He placed the mug back on the coffee table and glanced up at Erik again, suddenly self-conscious of the fact that the other man's eyes were glued to the bruise on his face. He raised his hand as if he meant to cover it, realized he couldn't, and allowed his hand to drop back into his lap, fingers toying absently with the hem of his shirt.

"Oh, no," Charles said quickly, looking up at Erik with a small smile. "I'm fine, thank you. Sorry about keeping you up so late, you must be absolutely exhausted."

It was just like Charles to put his trivial needs before his own, more important ones. Only Charles could sit here, bruises covering a good percentage of his body, and worry about Erik not getting enough sleep. Erik playfully, but casually nudged Charles knee with his own, then shook his head. "It's fine, really." He assured him, a smile working its way onto his face. "I'd be more pissed if I found out what happened to you a couple hours from now as opposed to a couple hours ago." 

Erik's gaze flickered down to Charles hands and watched for a moment while his fingers idly toyed with the hem of his shirt. Charles had never been this way around him before, but considering the circumstances, it was understandable. He was fidgeting and appeared as though he didn't want Erik to have to see him like this. Truth be told, the situation could have gone a lot worse -- Charles might not have been able to sit next to him like he was.

Once his gaze redirected itself back up at Charles face, his smile widened, but the knot in his stomach considerably tightened. Now may not have been an appropriate time, however, Erik could not wait any longer. He'd already had to repress his feelings throughout college and for the entire duration of Charles and Logan's relationship, and because that was over now, Erik felt it was as good a time as ever.

Erik leaned forward, looking for any sign of discomfort or rejection in his wake, and closed the gap between their lips. It was soft, but the intentions were quite obvious. For so many years, Erik had clung onto the hope that maybe -- just maybe -- Charles had some feelings for him. Perhaps not as strong as his own, but feelings nonetheless.  

\---

There was an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach, and Charles, for once, was completely unsure of the reason why; they were sitting there, as they had so many times before, but under completely different circumstances. It wasn't the fact that he'd fought with Logan, that the abuse was finally being thrown out into the open, that he had shown up on his best friend's doorstep at four in the morning and started to cry as soon as he opened his mouth. Charles supposed, honestly, that it stemmed from the fact that Erik had simply opened his door, held him, and allowed him to stay without even asking; he hadn't asked questions, though they'd been there, and he hadn't demanded answers. 

Charles was once again flooded with the same realization he'd been struck with the moment he'd seen Erik's name on the screen of his cell phone. For years, he'd been fighting any sort of feelings he may have had for Erik that ran deeper than friendship; there had been sidelong glances, of course, and Charles always had been in possession of a clear lack of respect for personal space, but that had been the extent of it. He'd dated around and carefully avoided giving Erik any need to be suspicious, and then he'd met Logan nearly a year ago and fallen into a relationship he honestly regretted. There had been attachment in the very beginning, but that had more or less been because Charles was lonely and looking for even the slightest bit of affection. Those feelings had faded after the first few months, however, and he'd been trapped ever since.

He looked up when Erik nudged his knee and couldn't help but mirror the smile on Erik's face, nudging him back in retaliation. "Understandably so." Charles said quietly, the smile dropping from his face. Even he knew that it could have been so much worse; he could've been lying in a hospital bed instead of sitting on Erik's couch, and the thought was almost enough to make him shudder. 

They fell into silence again, but this was a bit more comfortable; the uneasy feeling in his stomach was now, more or less, fueled by anxiety alone. He was still fidgeting with the hem of Erik's t-shirt, but after a long moment, he looked up to find Erik looking at him, the hint of a smile still on his face. Charles opened his mouth to speak, but within the next moment, Erik was leaning forward, pressing their lips together in a somewhat chaste kiss.

It was shock that registered first in his mind -- he froze for a brief moment, caught between disbelief and a twisted sense of giddiness that Erik was actually kissing him. The kiss itself was short, and they parted a moment later; Charles let out a sort of half-breathless laugh before he risked a glance in Erik's direction. He didn't give the other man a chance to speak or even himself a chance to think, instead choosing to press another gentle kiss to his mouth.

Erik deepened the kiss considerably; his tongue slowly swiped Charles lower lip, silently requesting entrance, which Charles reluctantly granted. Now, there was no turning back -- they had gone well over the bounds of their friendship and there it would be impossible for either of them to even pretend it never happened (if it ever came down to that). 

The kiss was a pleasant mixture of tongue and teeth; Erik's hand went up and rested on the side of Charles neck, remembering the injuries to his face. This moment was everything Erik had ever envisioned and more (minus the fact that Charles was hurt), and now that it happened, he never wanted to let Charles go. He wanted _this_ for so long; he refused to give it up. With every ounce of love he had in him, he would show Charles that he can and will have it so much better than he ever did. 

It was when Erik deepened the kiss that Charles finally allowed himself to relax somewhat; Erik's hand was resting gently on the side of his neck and Charles drew himself closer, fisting a hand loosely in the fabric of Erik's shirt. He didn't give himself much time to think about what kissing Erik might mean later, or if there would be any sort of regret on the other man's part (regardless of the fact that Erik had kissed him first and then deepened the second, Charles still couldn't quite let go of his age-old reservations). He'd held his feelings in, buried them beneath several bad and meaningless relationships, and kept them from Erik for far too long -- it was well past the time when the truth should've come out, despite any of his anxieties about what his friend's reaction might have been. 

After several long moments, Charles broke the kiss, though he didn't retreat back to his side of the sofa. He couldn't help the almost sheepish smile that stretched across his face a moment later, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

Least to say, Charles reaction to the kiss hadn't quite been what he'd anticipated. As soon as it was over, he expected panic to be written all over Charles face -- and then the insistence that they should both get some rest in an attempt to escape the situation entirely. But no, Charles was smiling at him -- and he didn't put some distance between them. 

Erik's hand dropped from Charles neck to take his hand in his own; a smile tugged at the corners of Erik's mouth as he leaned in once more and placed an almost chaste kiss on his best friend's lips. 

Charles's smile widened just the tiniest bit when Erik took his hand and kissed him again; he laced their fingers together, feeling a sense of contentment for the first time all night. He could have stayed up for hours, just sitting here like this with Erik, but a quick glance out the living room window showed that the sun was just starting to rise over the cityscape, and he was exhausted. 

"We should probably get some rest." he said quietly, giving Erik's fingers a gentle squeeze.

\---

"I would have been perfectly fine on the sofa, you know."

Nearly half an hour later, Charles found himself propped up on a pair of pillows in Erik's bed, watching incredulously as the other man milled about the room. It was different, seeing this side of Erik; for the majority of their friendship, Charles had been the one who was constantly fussing over Erik or anyone at all, really. Raven had always teased him for it, telling him time and time again that he was practically a mother hen, but someone had to look after the pair of them -- his sister had long since passed the age where she rebelled against the guidance of her older brother, but that didn't stop the occasional slipped comment, and Erik had always carefully avoided saying anything at all, if he minded it at all. Being the one on the receiving end of the all-too-familiar concerned stare was something that was somewhat unfamiliar to him.

Erik shook his head, still clutching a spare pillow in his hands. He'd been adamant, despite Charles's numerous protests, that he take the bed instead of the couch in the living room, refusing to allow Charles to talk him into any other sort of decision. Charles had huffed a sigh and opened his mouth to argue again when Erik had given him the look, and Charles found it in his best interest not to argue anymore after that. Erik had led him back to the bedroom then, a hand resting lightly on the small of his back. 

"You aren't sleeping on the sofa, Charles."

"You shouldn't have to give up your bed, either."

"The sleeping arrangements are no longer up for discussion." Erik replied with a smile and leaned down to press a kiss to Charles forehead before he straightened once more. "I will see you in the morning…" He trailed off, remembering that the sun was just rising outside. "I will see you when you wake up."

With that, Erik turned to leave -- not even a step later, he felt a hand wrap around his wrist. Charles was staring up at him, half desperation half want. "Will you…" He spoke, and then faltered, as if not trusting his voice to say anything more. Erik hated to think that Charles didn't want to be overly dependent on him. Erik, in actuality, would have preferred it that way. 

Erik inched his way back over to the bed, not needing Charles to finish his question to know what he was going to ask. Getting under the bed-sheets with his best friend (could he still call him just that?), Erik pulled him into a protective embrace and tucked Charles head under his chin, hands carefully avoiding the majorly bruised spots on his back. 

He heard Charles sigh contentedly; warm breath ghosted over an exposed area of his chest. This, holding Charles in a manner that stretched beyond their friendship, was what Erik always wanted. As much as he enjoyed being Charles friend, he knew he would enjoy the direction their lives would take after tonight. 

After delivering another soft kiss to Charles head, Erik closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

**-End of Part Three-**


	4. Chapter 4

**Fix You - Part Four**

**X-Men AU**

\---

Despite Erik’s numerous attempts at a diversion, Charles insisted that he return back to his own apartment that afternoon. He was, however, not opposed to the idea of Erik joining him -- in fact, he thought it was best, just in case Logan still happened to be around or returned during the period he was there. He and Charles made an agreement that Charles would go home, gather some of his clothes and whatever else he might need, and stay at Erik’s apartment until Logan and all of his belongings were officially moved out. 

The first part of the afternoon was spent at Erik’s apartment -- Erik having to convince Charles that having him stay under his roof for a while wasn’t going to be any sort of inconvenience. Considering their current arrangement, it would actually be rather enjoyable to have Charles around. Putting aside the fact that Erik had liked Charles since college, it would be extremely satisfying to wake up in the morning and have the brunette laying at his side, or to come home after a long day at work and have Charles help him unwind. Up until this day, it was merely a perfect picture Erik had painted in his head -- minus the whole incident with Logan.

Erik wasn’t going to allow Charles to leave the apartment in his attire from the night before. The shirt was splattered with blood, but the pants were salvageable. So, Charles wore his jeans and Erik gave him yet another slightly oversized t-shirt to wear in the meantime. 

It was around four that Erik pulled up to Charles apartment complex, his best friend sitting beside him in the passenger seat, nervously fidgeting with one of the buttons on _his_ shirt. Not much was said on the drive, but whenever Charles did say something, it would be a slightly over-dramatic “what-if” scenario, followed by Erik’s gentle assurance that he would not allow anything bad to happen to him. They were going over to get some of his things -- quick and easy -- and that would be it. However, if Logan did happen to be there when they arrived, Erik would not allow Charles to take a single step into that apartment. 

There was noticeable hesitance in Charles step. Erik thought that Charles legs might give out if he trembled any more than he was, so he opted they take the elevator instead of the stairs up to the third floor. Charles grip on his hand was tight, never ceasing as they got off the elevator and advanced down the long hallway to Charles apartment door. 

\---

As soon as the car came to a stop in front of his apartment building, Charles once again considered the rationality of simply abandoning all his things and starting from scratch. It wasn’t logical, of course, even thinking of leaving all of his belongings in an apartment that was leased under his name (foolishly, or maybe rather intelligently, he’d been the one to ask Logan to move in to his place) just because he was -- and he could admit it -- an absolute nervous wreck at the very idea of returning. He’d told Logan to leave, and an entire night and more than half a day had passed, but that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t walk in to find the other man seated in his armchair in the living room, filling the entire apartment with cigar smoke as he waited to Charles to finally break and come back home. It was part of the reason he’d asked for Erik to come with him, even if his friend had been rather adamant about going anyway. He felt safer with Erik by his side, a calming and reassuring presence that kept him from completely losing his composure as he stumbled from the car with shaking legs and made a grab for Erik’s hand, clutching it tightly as they walked together toward the entrance of the building.

The elevator ride was completely silent. Charles still didn’t let go of Erik’s hand, and though he was sure that he was squeezing tightly enough to be uncomfortable, Erik never complained. When the door slid open to reveal the corridor of the third floor, he sucked in a quick breath and raked his free hand through his hair, stealing a glance at Erik. The other man didn’t say a word, but somehow, that was reassurance enough, and together they left the elevator and walked down the corridor toward his apartment. His hands were shaking as he pulled his keys from the pocket of his jeans, but the lock slid easily enough and Charles pushed the door cautiously open.

The complete and utter silence of the apartment was not what struck him first, though the absence of Logan’s gravelly voice and the omnipresent murmur of the television was rather startling. Instead, it was the state of the apartment that caused him to jerk to a complete halt just inside the doorway, his hand falling free of Erik’s and dropping limply to his side.

In retrospect, he should have expected it.

Logan was gone, that much was glaringly obvious; there were empty spots where his few possessions had been -- a few pieces of hunting memorabilia that Charles had always hated, a framed hockey jersey -- and he hadn’t been confronted yet. In his wake, Logan had left an absolute war path. Charles should have known that he would be angry -- furious, even -- especially since he hadn’t returned home that night. It did not, however, make the fact that his apartment was a complete disaster any easier to cope with, even as he stepped slowly inside and took another look around. Chairs had been tipped over, his books were scattered across the floor, and he was sure that there was glass nestled somewhere in the carpet from the broken picture frames that had been torn from the walls. Scattered papers littered the floor, as though Logan had simply grabbed onto everything possible in his rage.

Charles swallowed thickly and stood there in the middle of it all, completely at a loss.

Erik should have been a bit more surprised than he was at the current state of Charles apartment. Most of Charles possessions were completely destroyed -- he dreaded going to the bedroom to see if any of his clothes were still intact, but, knowing Logan, he’d probably ruined those too. 

Erik’s eyes focused on Charles, who remained unmoving for several minutes as the reality of the situation sank uncomfortably in. He didn’t know which of Charles belongings held any emotional value, but for the most part, the stuff strewn about the floor looked to be things that could easily be replaced -- picture frames, books with pages ripped from the spine, lamps, and various knick-knacks. 

“Charles…” Erik broke the silence after several moments and took a hesitant step forward. At that moment, there was nothing he could say to make anything better. Regardless, Erik was thankful that Charles had the sense to leave the apartment before Logan had the chance to take his anger out on him. 

He’d been stupid to even possibly believe that Logan would simply leave the apartment in the same more-or-less clean condition Charles kept it in. If Logan was capable of nearly flying off the handle during one of their stupid arguments, something like this should have been expected; they’d been together for nearly a year (Charles wanted to be sick at the realization that he’d allowed himself to be caught in something like this for so long) and Logan was, if anything, possessive. He was going to make his displeasure known in the most apparent way possible.

Charles could hear Erik step toward him quietly, as though even he was unsure as to what to do. He simply shook his head at the sound of his name, still at a loss of what to say. Most of his possessions, if not all of them, could be very easily replaced -- but Charles was a sentimental man, and he could remember every occasion and person who’d happened to give him something, whether it was a book on the shelf or a small trinket of some sort sitting on his desk. He knelt down to pull a photograph of himself and Raven at her twenty-second birthday party from beneath a ruined copy of Othello, noticing the torn remnants of a sheet of paper scattered across the floor.

_Irene had never been fond of the rain, and it was only with a begrudging sort of affection and a promise to be angry later that she --_

He felt his heart drop into his stomach, and with shaking hands he plucked the next torn bit from the carpet.

_“You’re being ridiculous,” he told her over the rim of his coffee cup that Sunday morning, when they’d finally managed to leave the comfort of their hotel room and explore the empty streets. “One comment doesn’t mean anything at all.”_

This couldn’t be happening. One more, just to be sure.

_She was a force to be reckoned with when she was angry, and there was something terrifyingly lovely in that, a fact that didn’t quite sit well with Thomas and probably made him absolutely and certifiably crazy. “I think I may actually hate you.” Her words were like venom, but he marveled in --_

His novel. Logan had found his novel.

Books, trinkets, photographs he could replace. Furniture could be repaired, clothes could be bought all over again. But this, this was nearly three years of his life, the one thing he’d truly poured his entire heart and soul into, hunched over the silly, secondhand typewriter he’d bought on a whim one Saturday in Manhattan, when writing a novel had been some faraway dream. Three years of his life had been, in a matter of hours, reduced to a pile of scraps that continued down the hallway and into his office, taunting him like some paper bread crumb trail.

Erik found that there were no right words to say as Charles stared heartbrokenly down at the scraps in his hands -- too close to tears for comfort. Had those scraps of paper belonged to one of the books in Charles massive collection, he knew Charles would not have reacted in such a way. Judging by the sorrow that tugged harshly at every muscle in his face, Erik deduced that these tattered documents obviously contained some sort of emotional value. There was only one thing that Erik could imagine it was…

He took a few tentative steps forward and knelt down to take up one of the stray scraps. The font was clearly much older of a style compared to the fonts used in novels today; the paper was slightly yellowed and wrinkled along the edges, and the bits and pieces of the story were strikingly similar to the novel Charles had been slaving over for the past few years, which confirmed Erik’s suspicion that the papers strewn about the living room (and all the way into the office) indeed belonged to Charles work in progress masterpiece. 

Right now, Erik could only imagine what Charles was feeling. All of that work gone to waste -- hundreds of pages and hours was in the end all for nothing. He wanted so desperately to be able to assure Charles that everything would be all right and he would do his utmost to make everything better -- but there was absolutely nothing he could do. Erik stared down at the paper, torn between saying something and remaining silent. 

Charles could feel Erik standing beside him, and he watched as the other men knelt down to retrieve one of the bits of paper from the floor. He saw realization dawn quietly across his face, but that only made him clench the handful of scraps tighter in his fist, crushing them between his fingers. He couldn’t do this -- there were tears stinging his eyes and a sensation similar to heartbreak spreading through his chest, but he couldn’t allow himself to break down among the mess of his apartment and give Logan the satisfaction, whether he was present or not, of knowing that he’d somehow broken him.

Charles was a stronger man than that.

Erik didn’t speak, and he was glad for it; had he been offered any sort of comfort or solace, he was sure that the tears would have begun to flow freely down his face. Instead, Charles sucked in a quick breath and raked his free hand through his hair, sticking the torn bits of his novel into the pocket of his jeans.

“I suppose I should go pack some things, then.” he said quietly, glancing at Erik out of the corner of his eye.

Erik found that all he could do was stare as he watched Charles disappear into the bedroom to retrieve what few of his belongings Logan left untarnished. An almost inaudible sigh escaped Erik’s lips as he straightened, following suite and slid what slips of paper he had in his hands into his pants pockets (he didn’t know what Charles could possibly do with them, but he supposed it wasn’t his place to be asking questions…)

What Erik felt now towards Logan was indescribable -- at first he merely disliked him because he ruined whatever chance he thought he might have had with Charles, but now -- _now_ Erik hated him with every fiber of his being. These feelings were so prominent that he feared what he may do if he ever happened to cross paths with the other man. 

When Charles reappeared in the living room, he had only a few shirts and pants folded over one arm -- Erik presumed that was all that was left, but he said nothing in regards to it. “Ready?” 

Charles nodded, the tears gone, but there was no emotion whatsoever in his normally cheerful blue eyes -- his expression blank, completely void of its usual zeal. This was a side of Charles he’d never seen before, but with the gut-wrenching feeling it left him with, Erik didn’t care to see it again -- and he would do whatever it took to make sure that he never had to.

Erik rested a hand on the small of Charles back, gently coaxing him out of the apartment. 

He would personally make sure that Charles would never have to return here again. 

**-End of Part Four-**


	5. Chapter 5

**Fix You - Part Five  
X-Men AU**

\---

Things slowly and carefully returned to normal.

It took him three days and quite a few missed phone calls to finally break and call Raven -- he’d never told her any of the details of his relationship with Logan, no matter how diligently she pressed for them, out of consideration for her rather keen habit of worrying endlessly over him -- and he, with Erik’s consent, invited her to the apartment to tell her in person. She’d taken one look at his still-bruised eye and split lip and burst into tears, and it had taken quite a bit of coaxing on the part of both Charles and Erik to calm her down and assure her that everything was going to be all right. She’d been angry then, and fiercely protective of her older brother, hugging him tightly in the doorway and getting several promises from Erik that he’d keep a watchful eye on him. Next had been a call to Emma Frost, one of Erik’s fellow lawyers and a mutual friend (though the term friend was probably used very loosely in Erik’s case), a conversation that he’d dreaded having equally as much as the conversation with Raven. He decided, against the better judgment of both Emma and Raven, not to press any sort of charges -- in all honesty, he wanted nothing but to put this entirely behind him and move on. 

Nearly two weeks passed before he left Erik’s, despite his numerous assurances that Charles could stay as long as he liked. He wanted to return to work, and as tempting as staying with Erik was, it was time for him to pick up the pieces of his life back at his own apartment. So he’d gone back with Raven by his side, armed with boxes and trash bags, and together they’d done the best they could to clean and tidy the apartment, restoring it to the way it’d been before Logan had ever come into the picture. The bruises faded and he was able to return to work at the bookstore, slipping quietly into his normal routine with less fuss than he’d feared. 

“How are you today, Charles?” Moira smiled at him from across the cafe’s counter, her chin resting in the palm of her hand. She’d taken the news with a remarkably level head when he returned to work, hugging him tightly the moment he’d finished explaining his sudden absence. She’d always been one of his favorite coworkers, but they’d formed an easy friendship in recent weeks, a bit of added stability that he greatly appreciated.

“I’m well, thanks.” he replied, gathering up a stack of books that needed to return to the shelves. “Save your break until noon, won’t you? We’ll have lunch.”

Moira nodded just as another customer stepped up to the counter, and Charles smiled at her before turning to return to the floor, winding his way through several of the shelves as he returned books to their proper places.

\---

At first, Erik had been hesitant about letting Charles return to his apartment. 

There was a constant nagging in the back of his mind; his paranoia led him to think that the second Charles got comfortable back in his own place, Logan would return and do even worse damage than before. He’d insisted on several occasions that it was completely unnecessary for Charles to go back -- that he didn’t mind him staying at his apartment. Erik didn’t go so far as to officially ask his best friend to move in with him (being a new couple and all, the last thing he wanted to do was freak him out by moving too fast). 

Even his attempts to help Charles and Raven clean the apartment were futile. Charles affirmed that they could very easily do it on their own -- after pointing out the fact that Erik had tons of paperwork to go through (he didn’t know how it managed to pile up the way it had over the course of a few days). Erik, unwillingly, let him and his sister go, but kept his phone within close range in case Charles called with some kind of emergency. Thankfully, such a call never came, but Charles did let him know their progress later that evening via text message. He hadn’t got but two replies before he assumed Charles fell asleep, which was not uncommon for him.

Now, Erik sat at his large mahogany desk, politely dismissing one of his most frequent clients from his office. As soon as they left, Erik reviewed the case file yet again and shook his head. Sean Cassidy. Again -- this time for vandalism. Erik was sure that if Sean kept up these misdemeanors, his parents were going to make him a very rich man. Certainly Erik did not condone the rather lewd graffiti writing, even if Sean claimed it was for a necessary cause. Unable and unwilling to provide a testimony in Sean’s defense, Erik could do nothing but assign yet another court date for the teenager -- and being one hundred percent sure that the judge is tired of his continuous reckless antics, he wasn’t going to be so lenient on the sentence this time around.

Erik’s pen flowed freely across the bottom of the document and it wasn’t long after that before Janos rapped his knuckle on his open office door. He looked up briefly, a smirk tugging at his lips when Janos held onto the doorframe and leaned over in his direction, a rather amused expression plastered on his face. “Cassidy again?” 

Erik nodded, set down his pen and leaned back in his leather desk chair, releasing a slightly annoyed sigh. “Unfortunately, yes. I don’t think he’ll ever learn.” But he didn’t particularly mind -- it was individuals like Sean that provided his income. 

This time, Janos laughed and shook his head. “That kid, I tell ya.” He cleared his throat and curiously looked over the documents scattered about his co-workers desk. “When’s your next appointment?” 

Erik gave a sidelong glance over at the clock in the bottom corner of his computer screen. He had about two hours to kill. “Not until three.” Truth be told, he didn’t have much, if anything to do until then. 

“Cool. Wanna go get lunch or something?” 

Erik pursed his lips and idly tapped his fingers on the desktop as he mused on Janos offer. Being as how the bookstore was only a few blocks down the street from the firm, he could walk down and see how Charles was doing. He hadn’t had a chance to see him (at work anyway) these last four days and was hoping he was readjusting well after his prolonged absence. “Sorry, but I have a couple errands to run.” He stood and grabbed his gray pinstripe suit jacket from the back of the chair and shrugged it on. 

“Ah, I see. Oh well.” Janos shoulders slumped slightly in disappointment, but he immediately perked as a new window of opportunity opened up. “I think I will go ask Angel if she wants to get a bite to eat.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Erik had to chuckle. He’d approached her several times before -- but that was Janos for you, he never knew when to quit. 

“Good luck with that.” Erik said, adjusting his collar as he brushed past the man and advanced down the long corridor leading to an elevator. Janos watched him go, then tugged a hand through his hair with a heavy sigh and made his way back to the front desk where Angel, Shaw’s secretary (second to Emma, of course), sat as she always did, unenthusiastically answering phone calls. 

Erik passed Darwin, an intern, on his way out the main revolving door. He acknowledged him politely, earning a broad grin and a cheerful “Hey Mr. Lehnsherr, nice to see you today” in return. Looking down at his watch as he proceeded to walk down the slightly crowded sidewalk, Erik calculated that it would take roughly ten minutes to get to the bookstore -- surely he would not stay very long knowing Charles was supposed to be working, so he would have plenty of time to grab something to eat before he headed back to the office. 

As Erik figured, he arrived at the bookstore in eight minutes and forty-three seconds (being a lawyer, it was in his nature to be extremely specific). A petite brunette woman, whom was currently cleaning the café counter, greeted him with a bright smile upon his entry. “Good afternoon, sir.” Erik acquiesced to the gesture with a slight nod of his head, and then allowed his eyes to scan over the rows of shelves until he spotted a familiar brown head of hair -- his back currently turned away from him. 

Erik made his way over to Charles and rested a hand on the small of the man’s back. “Excuse me, sir, but might I trouble you for just a moment of your time..?” He flashed his trademark wide, almost beautifully blinding smile, and chuckled at the shocked expression on Charles face -- which soon faded away to utter delight. 

\---

The book store wasn't terribly busy despite the lunchtime break; they usually experienced an influx of customers around noon and one o'clock, but Charles only heard the door chime and Moira's greeting from the cafe a couple of times. After pointing an elderly woman in the right direction of their selection of novels by Nora Roberts, he returned to his work, re-shelving a handful of different copies of _Jane Eyre_. He wondered, with a brief glance at the watch on his wrist, what Erik was up to -- on the phone last night, he'd mentioned the likelihood of another case coming in with Sean Cassidy's name on it, and Charles couldn't help but feel somewhat sympathetic for the troubled young man. They hadn't spoken since, other than a handful of text messages from this morning when Charles was taking the underground to work, and he was half-tempted to duck into the back to send another when a hand rested on the small of his back. 

He whirled, nearly dropping the copies of _Jane Eyre_ he still held in his hands, alarm evident on his face until he realized, belatedly, who was standing behind him. Erik was grinning widely, the corners of his eyes crinkled in delight, and Charles couldn't help but mirror the smile. It was a welcome surprise, seeing him here so unexpectedly, and Charles couldn't help the rush of affection that bubbled up in his chest. 

"Hello, Erik." Charles said, the smile still on his face. "What are you doing here?"

Erik helped Charles straighten the rather tall pile of books in his arms as a soft laugh slipped past his lips. “I don’t have another client for a couple hours, so I figured I’d drop by.” He kept his tone quiet, even though there was only a few other patrons scattered about the store aside from himself. Erik was thankful when Charles did have to work -- it went without question that he preferred him in a public setting as opposed to being back at his apartment alone. So long as Logan remained in the area, there was always that worry that he would come back unexpectedly. Hell, Erik was beginning to think he was more distraught about the thought than Charles was.

He was halfway sure that he was probably grinning like an idiot, but he couldn't help the sense of happiness he felt knowing that Erik had simply decided to drop by in between clients. Though he made it sound terribly casual, Charles knew that there were plenty of things that probably needed his attention back at his office -- he'd seen, even in his short time staying with Erik, the amount of paperwork that he brought on every evening in his briefcase, and he could only imagine what waited for him each morning on his desk. With his new promotion, Erik's workload had seemed to double overnight, and Charles couldn't help but feel just the tiniest bit guilty that he was taking Erik's attention away from his work, even briefly. It was still terribly endearing that he'd dropped by, however; an act of kindness that he hadn't been used to in quite some time. 

"Oh, you didn't have to do that..." he said quietly, placing the stack of books on a nearby display table. “I’d ask you to lunch, but I took my break just a half hour ago. I wish I'd waited."

Erik shrugged it off and slid his hands into his pants pockets. “I probably should have called earlier on.” He replied, not knowing why he hadn’t thought to do so a couple hours ago; he knew his schedule was going to be open around one o’clock. “Since lunch didn’t work out, what do you say to dinner, my place, after you get off work?” Erik raised a brow, followed by yet another one of his irresistible smiles. He’d probably be home around the same time Charles’ shift ended. He’d given Charles a key, but Charles insisted he wouldn’t abuse the privilege and only use it for dire emergencies. “And if you’re feeling up to it,” The taller man paused briefly, grin widening ever so slightly. “Might you be interested in staying with me tonight?”

Charles had never been terribly gifted at saying _no_ \-- Raven had him wrapped around her little finger by the time she was five years old, and if she was the first person he couldn't, under most circumstances, say no to, then Erik was a very close second. From the moment Erik offered an invitation to dinner, Charles was sure that he would agree wholeheartedly, but the wide smile on the other man's face was enough to do him in. He couldn't possibly say no to that -- not when Erik was standing in the middle of his workplace, eyes crinkled at the corners and his attention focused solely on Charles. 

"Of course," he said before Erik was even finished speaking, realizing again that he was acting more like an awkward, lovesick teenager than an adult who'd been in more than one established relationship throughout his life. He felt the beginnings of a blush heat his face momentarily, but he couldn't help the smile that once again tugged at the corners of his mouth at the next part of Erik's request. Though he'd promised that he would not abuse the hospitality that Erik had and continued to show him, he couldn't deny the fact that staying with him again was tempting -- their relationship was still considered very new, but something about it made Charles feel as though they'd been together for months, years even, without realizing it. 

"If you wouldn't mind me staying...," Charles said, looking up at him with a smile. "I'd be more than happy to do so."

“Good.” Erik answered in a hushed tone and then turned slightly from Charles. “I’ll see you later, then.” With that and a sly wink, he proceeded to walk back towards the bookstore entrance, where Charles brunette co-worker smiled broadly and gave the usual “Have a wonderful day, sir” dismissal. The bell above the door chimed as it was opened, then again when it closed. Moira looked over at Charles knowingly and continued to idly wipe off the counter. Charles had mentioned a boyfriend before -- but she never had the pleasure of seeing him. 

Charles smile remained as he then went back to the tedious task of arranging the books on the shelf; Moira laughed from where she stood, tossing the dishtowel onto the counter behind her. “Well, Charles, I must say…” She started as Charles walked over to the display where he’d set down the numerous copies of _Jane Eyre_. “It’s nice to see you happy. Different, but nice.” In the short time she’d known him, it was only recently that she noticed a change in his behavior. His normally somber attitude had morphed into that of sheer contentment. 

A blush rose to Charles cheeks as he turned back to the shelf.

“Yes…it is.” 

**-End-**


End file.
